


Gin

by swtalmnd



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alcohol, Curtain Fic, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Inception, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: After the inception job, Arthur goes on a gin binge at a high-end bar. Eames comes to find him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kate_the_reader for the beta, and the Inception Slack for all the sprints and encouragement.
> 
> There is no first-time under-the-influence sex, because that's not, you know, consensual.

"Martinis, Arthur?" said Eames, sliding in next to him at the bar. "Fancy yourself James Bond?"

"I like gin," said Arthur shortly, taking another sip of his martini. It was good gin, the third one he'd tried so far and possibly the one he'd stick with. "Why are you here? I thought you were going to Iceland."

"A little bird told me you were going on a bender," said Eames cheerfully. The bartender came over and Eames turned away, "I'll have what he's having, and you can put his tab on my tab."

The bartender gave Arthur an inquiring look, and Arthur shrugged. "If he wants to waste his money on my gin binge, he's free to do so. I really like this one, but I want to try that one next," said Arthur, pointing to the next bottle down the line.

"Will do," said the bartender, moving to start on Eames' drink and put it on Arthur's-now-Eames' tab.

"So, why is my gin tasting worth your money to participate in?" asked Arthur, turning to Eames with something resembling his usual grace. Three martinis weren't really a lot, and he'd made a point to eat before sniffing out this bar and its excellent selection of local artisanal gins.

Eames grinned. "I've never seen you drunk," he said. "It seemed like a rare and precious sight that won't be around later, unlike Iceland."

Arthur snorted. "I'm not a very entertaining drunk," he said. "I just get even pickier about the alcohol, and start telling everyone around me about the tasting notes until they cut me off."

Eames laughed, looking delighted. "Well, then, tell me about this one."

The bartender brought over Eames' drink and slid a plate of fries between them; the place was fancy enough that there was a trio of sauces on one side and decorative kale on the other. "On the house," he said.

"Ta very much, then," said Eames, picking one up and dipping it into the red stuff before folding it into his mouth. "Ooh, curry ketchup, very hipster."

Arthur snorted. "I hope you've had dinner," he said, stealing one and trying the ketchup. He found it interesting but a little too sweet for him, and not well-matched with his drink. "This gin is very smooth, with some bright herbal notes and a heavy dose of juniper, but there's also some underlying citrus and something almost mossy that rounds it out."

Eames watched him with utter fascination, and Arthur wondered for a moment if Eames had ever forged him, and if so, what he'd felt like in Arthur's skin.

"Let's see if I can taste half of that," said Eames, saluting Arthur with his martini and then taking a careful sip. He let out a small considering sound and then swallowed, nodding. "Definitely a bit of mossiness, this one might not be my favorite because of that, but you're right about the juniper." He took another sip and then smiled. "Ah, there's the citrus, hm, it does grow on you, doesn't it?"

"I like the way the flavors are layered," said Arthur, lax and loose-limbed despite himself. He'd hung his suit jacket over the back of the bar stool and rolled up his sleeves, letting the alcohol warm him. "It's got a lot of interest from the first sip to the last."

"That it does," said Eames, taking another. "Mm, coriander, maybe? Fennel, too."

Arthur smiled at him, letting that warmth relax his social defenses even though a part of him really did know better. "You know, I've never had someone along who actually liked gin."

"Well, I'm very happy to be sharing this with you, then," said Eames. He looked sincere, open, but Arthur had known him too long to fully trust it, even as buzzed as he already was. "Which ones have you already tried?" Eames asked.

The bartender brought over the three bottles and joined in their conversation about them. The man, whose name turned out to be Tony, gave Eames small tastes of the first two, and Eames declared the second one that Arthur had found too harsh to be his favorite. "But for now, I want to drink what Arthur's drinking," said Eames. "I'll try the Botanist in a martini when Arthur's settled into his Terroir."

"Venus is next," said Tony, tucking the bottles back on the shelf and pulling out the round bottle with its hand-numbered label. "They've got a No. 2 out now, but we only have the No. 1 in stock. It's got a lot of citrus and ginger, but still juniper in the finish."

"Sounds delightful," said Eames, dipping his fries into the next pot of sauce and tasting them. "Horseradish?"

"Horseradish aioli," said Tony. "The last one's garlic dill mustard." Arthur glanced around, but the bar was having a lull, everyone sipping their drinks and giving the bartender the freedom to chat with his high-end customers.

"Arthur has a point about dinner, do you do actual food?" asked Eames, trying the mustard with the same curiosity he'd approached the rest.

Arthur smiled and sipped his martini. "I could be persuaded to order dessert," he added.

Tony laughed and found them a menu, bound in leather and printed on heavy taupe card stock. Eames ordered a pizza with salmon, capers, and crème fraîche, while Arthur decided to try the olive oil cake, which sounded like it would go much better with the gin than the fries had.

They finished off their drinks and let Tony ply them with water while he put in their food orders and made the next set of martinis. He got caught up in a small rush, which left Arthur with no one but Eames for company.

"So," said Arthur, "are you going to try to get into my pants once I'm drunk?"

"That would hardly be sporting," said Eames. "You're already too buzzed to give me the properly enthusiastic consent I require for such things."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't really disagree. "That's refreshingly ethical of you," he replied.

Eames snorted. "I do have some morals where it counts, love."

"You mean where I could hunt you down and dump your body in the ocean," said Arthur dryly. "I could make it look like a boating accident. No one would ever suspect me."

Eames laughed, low and delighted despite the rather vivid threat. "Oh, darling, I have never had any doubt of that. But no, while I'm happy to do what I do professionally, I prefer my recreations entirely above board."

"So that makes the casinos, what, work?" asked Arthur. He took his first sip of the Venus, trying to taste the various notes mentioned on the bottle and finding that some really shone through while others were muddled or hidden. It was good, though, the orange notes going beautifully with juniper and ginger, the twist of lemon in his drink brightening the whole thing up to a delightful crispness.

"Basically," said Eames with a shrug. "It's a lot like forging, sometimes, taking on that persona and seeing what I can win, or not."

"Not to mention the chips," said Arthur, giving him a significant look. "Try the Venus, it's really good."

Eames sipped, face going through some interesting changes before he grinned. "This might be my favorite, it's really lovely in a martini."

"You should still try the Botanist," said Arthur. "Now I'm torn between this and the Terroir, though."

"I'm sure we can alternate, if we're here that long," said Eames. "Or find a package store and get a bottle of our own."

Arthur gave him a dry, amused look. "I didn't say I'd get drunk enough to let you take me home, Mr. Eames."

"I already said I wasn't going to take advantage," said Eames with an impish smile that was surprisingly fond for all Arthur had always thought Eames didn't like him much. "I want to get you home safely tonight and see if you'll let me take advantage tomorrow when you're sober."

Arthur snorted. "How do you even know I'm gay?" he asked, not nearly as much of a challenge as he'd meant it to be.

"Oh, Arthur," purred Eames, "I've never met a straight man with trousers cut like that over his arse."

That surprised a proper laugh out of him, and Arthur felt oddly self-conscious about the dimples he knew were showing. "All right, yes, though technically I'm bi."

"As long as it results in my tongue in your arse tomorrow, I really don't mind," said Eames with a wink.

Arthur's cheeks flamed, but fortunately Tony was unfazed, despite having returned to check on them just in time to hear Eames' proposition. "Well, with such a romantic declaration, how could I resist?" said Arthur, deadpan.

Tony snorted. "Tomorrow is all you guys, but can I interest you in a slightly different taste for your favorites?" he asked. "A little sweet vermouth can really bring out a new facet to the flavors of a complex gin."

"Oh, you tease," said Eames with a chuckle. "Yes, I'm in, I want to try the Venus one with it."

"Me, too," said Arthur with a nod. "I'll try to keep Eames from further obscenities in your bar."

Tony just nodded, smirking, and went over to prepare their drinks. 

"If you embarrass me again I'm making you leave a 100% tip," said Arthur with a little scowl. "And definitely not letting you do the other thing."

"I'd gladly do the former, but not give up all hope on the latter," said Eames, grinning wide enough to show the crooked teeth that shouldn't be so charming. "I'll be a very good boy for you, darling."

"Yes, dear," said Arthur, in the rote, flat tone of beleaguered husbands everywhere.

Eames had the gall to laugh.

Arthur was saved from inflicting bodily harm by the arrival of their new drinks, and refills on their water as well. "Food will be up in a sec," said Tony. "Tell me what you think?"

The sweet vermouth gave the gin a warm, amber glow, making the martini look more like a Manhattan, and Arthur took a moment to inhale the sharp smell and enjoy how the scent of the gin had changed. He took a sip and let out a small sigh of contentment as the drink filled his mouth, gin softened by the sweetness of the vermouth, the herbal notes blunted while the floral notes blossomed along with a hidden spiciness. "Wow, okay, this is my new favorite," said Arthur.

"Mm, yes, this is lovely," said Eames. "Can I have a bit of the vermouth by itself? There's some notes in here I'm unable to place."

"Of course," said Tony, grinning. "The Antica has a lot of character, so it's probably from that." He poured two small glasses of vermouth and handed them over.

Arthur smiled. "I'm definitely going to have to give this bar the best Yelp review ever," he said with a chuckle, taking one more sip of the martini just because he could.

Arthur was clearing his palate with some water when their food arrived, which required some shifting around of what suddenly felt like a lot of glasses to accommodate it, mostly because of Eames' pizza. Arthur decided to leave his cake for after he'd come to a decision about the vermouth, so he snagged the cordial glass and took a small, curious sip. The spice notes were the first thing he noticed, having tasted them in the martini, followed by rich fruit and a bit of vanilla, and the whole thing was, by itself, as complex as the gin. It was no wonder the drink had been so amazing, everything warmly complementary and sweetly supportive of the gin's brighter, harsher notes.

"All right, this stuff is the best and I need some for home," said Arthur. He got out his phone and took some notes, then some more notes about the gin.

"Don't forget your drink, love," said Eames after who knew how long, his voice low and fond in a way Arthur was choosing to attribute to the gin. And his half-eaten pizza; either he'd been very hungry or Arthur had been very wrapped up in his notes.

"Won't," said Arthur, making one last one and tucking the phone away. "Just making sure I don't forget."

Eames' face was soft and warm. "You're definitely well into your bender now, aren't you?" he said, sounding pleased. "And still enjoying every moment of it."

"Did you taste the vermouth?" demanded Arthur, trying to change the subject. "There's some really interesting spice notes that interact intriguingly with this gin."

"I did indeed," said Eames, grinning from ear to ear, and they launched into a discussion of the drink that went back and forth and covered all the gins they'd tried, dragged Tony in for long enough to give his own opinion and make them each another drink, this time with the Terroir and Antica.

Arthur ate his cake, which was strange and rich and delicious, and then stole some of Eames' bread pudding when that came, and at some point he realized that not only was he enjoying himself far more than usual but he really, really wanted to kiss Eames. Which was followed with the realization that he always wanted to kiss Eames, but he usually repressed it under his desire to punch Eames in his smug mouth.

Arthur sighed. "One more," he said, "and then I should let you take me home and see if the guest room is a shambles."

"Can we go liquor shopping tomorrow?" asked Eames, lighting up. "We'll get breakfast at a greasy diner and then shop for pricey gins at some unholy hour and look like ridiculous hipster lushes."

Arthur's face softened. "If you can get my hangover to behave, you can take me to breakfast," he promised rashly. "But if I find you told anyone but Cobb where I live, boating accident."

Eames snickered and signaled to Tony, ordering one more round and closing out their tab with a promise that they'd be taking a cab wherever they went. He did indeed leave a 100% tip, making a show of it so Arthur couldn't help but see.

"I hope that was a real credit card," whispered Arthur, while Tony was occupied with their drinks.

"Perfectly valid, pinky swear," said Eames. "Our little triumph has made me quite flush."

"Until you game it all away," said Arthur, feeling terribly unsteady all of a sudden. "Don't, though. I mean, could you not?"

Eames' smile shrank a little, but didn't vanish entirely. "Only if I had something better to occupy my time," he said.

Arthur huffed. "You're going to be busy for at least three days if the hangover doesn't kill me," he said. "You're going to positively worship my... me."

"Am I, now? That does sound quite diverting," said Eames. "I won't hold you to it, though I am completely holding you to the diner breakfast and liquor shopping, because I'm only so ethical."

Arthur laughed, happy to see Eames' face warming back up, the smile blossoming on his lips. "You're better with smiles," said Arthur. He was really getting drunk now, the liquor hitting at full force after an awful lot of cocktails. "Your face, I mean."

"You need to drink a lot more water, my dove," said Eames. His eyes were sparkling, and those soft lips that Arthur had not stopped staring at since his fifth or sixth drink were curled up in mischief.

Tony came over and looked sheepish. "Sorry, I have to ask, did you do this right?" he said, flashing the receipt. "It's not a drunken math error?"

"He's trying to impress me," said Arthur, "and he can afford it."

"He's right on both counts, and you've earned every penny," said Eames. "It is not a maths error, and I'm not drunk enough to think it's proper to say it 'math' so clearly I'm doing fine."

Tony chuckled and refilled their waters, then handed over their fresh drinks. "All right, then," he said, smiling happily as he went over to run the card.

"Water first," said Eames, pushing the glass toward Arthur and then lifting his own in a toast.

"Yeah, seriously," said Arthur. The room wasn't spinning precisely, but it definitely wasn't steady anymore. He drank the water in slow, careful sips, all the way down to the ice, and he did feel better once it was done.

Eames had done the same, and he was smiling as he picked up his final martini. "Cheers, love."

"Yeah, cheers," said Arthur, clinking their glasses together with only a small amount of sloshing. He took a sip and let out a soft, happy sigh; their last drink was Venus and Antica again, with a brandied cherry in the bottom of the glass, which was really strange with gin and yet somehow it worked. Arthur wasn't sure it would work for him when he wasn't drunk, but he was totally going to make Eames buy him some cherries and find out -- after he was done living out a lot of sexual fantasies about strong men on Eames' body.

"We need these tomorrow," said Arthur. "The cherries, I mean, not the sex. Drinks. Whatever."

Eames smiled at him, looking a bit fuzzy around the edges himself after he'd matched Arthur drink for drink for the last few hours. "We need sex tomorrow, too, but that's nothing to do with this," he said teasingly. "I'll make a note of the cherries."

"Manhattans," said Arthur.

"Right, so bourbon as well," said Eames with a grin. "Sounds brilliant. Lemons, also, so a stop at the grocer."

"We'd have to go there, the cupboards are bare," said Arthur, giggling at his own rhyming cleverness.

Eames laughed with him, low and rich and warm. "Ah, thank you," he said to Tony when the receipt was returned all cleared. "Can you tell me about these cherries?"

"Oh, yeah, those are Luxardo," Tony said, finding the jar and showing them. Eames snapped a photo of the label and thanked him.

Arthur smiled. "Clever boy," he said, bumping his shoulder against Eames' and then having to gently sway himself back to stay in his chair. "Yeah, this is about when I usually get cut off anyway."

"I'll pour you into a cab and escort you home," said Eames. "Where's your luggage?"

"Over there," said Arthur, jerking his head to the neat pile of it in an out-of-the-way corner of the bar. "They're keeping an eye on it for me."

"I'm glad I tipped well, then," said Eames with another of those smiles that made Arthur's insides feel annoyingly warm and gooey. Eames had parked his own carry-on next to his bar stool, on the side away from Arthur; he always travelled lighter than Arthur could ever manage.

Arthur sipped his martini again and then gave in to the urge to stick two fingers into the last inch of his drink. He fished out the cherry, sucking gin and cherry juice off his fingers. The fruit was amazing, rich and so full of flavor he could barely stand it, and he was really glad Eames got the brand name. "Fuck, that's good."

"It really, really is," said Eames, eyes hot on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur was already too flushed from the alcohol to show any embarrassment, so he just grinned, bright and cheerful. "Aren't you glad you're going to buy me a whole jar of them?"

Eames laughed delightedly and downed the rest of his own drink, tipping the cherry past those lush lips with a pleased expression. "I'm buying every jar they have, that's brilliant."

Arthur grinned and finished off his own drink, then sighed and grabbed his refilled water glass. "One more for the road, and then we can find a cab," said Arthur.

Eames clinked waters with him and they both drained their glasses. "We'll have more at yours," said Eames, slipping out of his chair and putting a hand out. "Stand up, let's get you back in your jacket," he said.

"You don't have to pretend, I know you're trying to make sure I don't fall over," said Arthur, in what he was pretty sure wasn't actually a whisper. He stood and swayed and let Eames steady him, and he even got his own sleeves rolled down in order to put his jacket back on.

"I called you guys a cab, it should be here in a few," said Tony. "Just wait outside."

"Ta, you've been a champ," said Eames, all British charm and sincerity.

"Thanks, man," said Arthur, blinking a bit to try to make the world steady itself. "Don't worry, he really will take care of me."

"I don't doubt it," said Tony with a grin.

"He's in good hands," said Eames, managing to make it both an innuendo and sincere at the same time.

Arthur was pleased to find he was not too drunk to roll his eyes.

They wrestled the luggage out to the curb and then things got a bit fuzzy, though Arthur did find himself at his own front door, so clearly he managed to tell someone where his house was. Eames took his keys to unlock the door, and Arthur darted forward to disable the alarm system before it could do something unfortunate. They got the luggage wrestled inside and tucked away enough for Arthur's peace of mind, garment bag hung in the hall closet and shoes on the mat by the door.

"So, this is my home," said Arthur, hanging his suit jacket as well. "I haven't lived here in too long, but I'm thinking of moving back for a while."

"I'm done with Kenya for now," said Eames, "so we'll see if you'll keep me or not, now I've followed you home." He gently moved Arthur away from the closet, hanging his own jacket and shedding his shoes, then easing them into the living room proper. 

The house was small and old-fashioned; Arthur never got around to renovating to the open plan he wanted, but he had high hopes for this break. The dust-sheeted furniture was all comfortable and squashy, the opposite of the man he was at work, and Arthur felt suddenly naked. "So, um, anyway, there's a guest room, but everything's probably pretty dusty."

"Let's see what's in your airing cupboard, then," said Eames, for once not commenting though Arthur saw him take in everything with a con man's eye for detail.

Arthur led him on a short tour, into the empty kitchen. He started up the ice maker, got some glasses for water, and confirmed that the cupboards were, indeed, bare of any food at all except for a lone box of Kosher salt. "We'll hit the grocery store tomorrow, um, if you decide you want to stick around," said Arthur.

Eames lit up, taking the glasses from Arthur. "I think it's more if you decide you want me around, Arthur, but that's all tomorrow's decisions."

"Well, anyway, um, the rest of the house is upstairs," said Arthur. He pointed out the half bath downstairs and vaguely gestured toward his office and library, and took Eames up to the second floor to the living spaces, master bedroom and master bath, guest bedroom and guest bath, linen closet and the pull-down stairs up to the attic space.

The beds were unmade in both rooms, mattresses draped with dust cloths. They found clean sheets in the linen closet, along with pillows and a comforter in the cedar chest Arthur had bought years ago on a whim. It took far more effort than Arthur had expected to get his wide bed made and when he was done he sat down heavily and sighed.

"You promise not to molest me in my sleep?" asked Arthur. "Because I'm not sure I have another one of those in me."

Eames' delight made something light up in Arthur's chest in response. "I might cuddle, but I promise no outright molestation."

"Fine, then, the price is a glass of water and finding our pajamas," said Arthur. "And then you may stay here, on the left. I like the right."

"Perfect," said Eames. He got water for both of them and then rummaged in Arthur's dresser for something to sleep in, turning up the pair of silk pajamas Arthur had bought himself before he realized they weren't as fun to sleep in as he'd hoped.

"Get yours, too, unless you don't have any," said Arthur, drinking half the water and then forcing himself back to his feet. "I'm taking the bathroom first."

"Of course," said Eames.

Arthur managed to get himself basically taken care of, pleasantly surprised when Eames knocked long enough to pass him his shaving kit with toothbrush and all that. He scratched a bit at the gel in his hair, smiling to think of Eames' face when he saw Arthur's vacation hair tomorrow. He emerged in his silk, trousers ready to hang and the rest in a bundle for the hamper.

"You're ridiculous," said Arthur, grinning at the picture Eames made.

"You like me this way," said Eames. He was wearing a worn blue Oxford University t-shirt and the ugliest pink and orange paisley pajama pants that Arthur had ever seen in his life.

"At least I won't lose you in the dark," said Arthur. He swayed again and gave up on hanging his pants over anything but a chair, sitting more heavily than he'd intended. "That was a fuck lot of gin."

"We'll take care of you, darling," said Eames. His voice was all soft and fond again, which kept catching Arthur off guard, even though he had known intellectually that there was always a chance that Eames liked him back and enjoyed their sparring as much as Arthur did.

"It's your turn, anyway," said Arthur. He drank the rest of his water and curled under the covers, unable to stay upright for another moment.

"Go to sleep, Arthur. I'll be along," said Eames.

Arthur was vaguely aware of the bathroom door closing; of more water being set on his nightstand; of the bed dipping and strong arms gathering him close. But mostly he was riding the soft spin of the world, the way everything was tilted on its axis, fuzzy and warm. He let it eventually spiral him down into the darkness of dreamless sleep.

* * *

Arthur woke feeling very much like he'd had a lot of gin last night.

His head ached and his whole body felt vaguely sore and heavy. Sitting up made his stomach protest mildly, though not nearly as much as he'd feared. The light slanting through the window showed that he'd slept well into the day, and a glance at his phone confirmed that it was almost noon. Arthur looked at the other side of the bed, blinking away sleep to see Eames definitely still there, curled away from him and, apparently, reading a book.

"Is." Arthur had to clear his throat and take a sip of water. "Is that my copy of Tequila Mockingbird?"

"It is, and it's quite a clever little book, isn't it? Lots of good gin recipes, I'm making mental notes," said Eames. He closed the book, finger in it to hold his place, and rolled over. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"Less awful than expected," said Arthur, after another big gulp of water. "I require diner food, though."

"Of course," said Eames. "Have a couple of those pain pills and the first shower. I'm afraid I can't offer you coffee or tea, because you have nothing."

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, I kinda forgot about that when I decided to go straight to the bar," he said. "There's a diner near the supermarket, they have shitty coffee and shitty tea, but the food is amazing."

"We'll be well provided for, then," said Eames. He turned back, opening the book again. "Go shower, you'll feel better."

"Yeah," said Arthur. He felt slow, like there was something important going on here that he should be reacting to or thinking through but he couldn't quite get there so instead he just forced himself into motion and into the bathroom.

Eames had apparently puttered around before getting back into bed; there were towels and washcloths, for a start. Arthur's shaving kit had migrated into the medicine cabinet, which had been just as thoroughly denuded as the kitchen cupboards when he'd paid a service to shutter the house for the duration. Arthur took a moment to brush his teeth and make sure his eyes weren't too bloodshot before he started up the shower.

Eames was right, it did make him feel better.

Arthur emerged feeling far more human, all the airport grime and alcohol grunge washed away with the last vestiges of sleep. He decided to leave his hair floppy as much to fuck with Eames as anything, and went back to the bedroom with the towel slung low around his waist. "Shower's all yours. Thanks for the towels and stuff."

"I am already feeling very well-rewarded," said Eames, eyeing Arthur shamelessly. "Does this mean you might not kick me out tonight?"

"It doesn't mean I won't make you sleep in the guest room bed," said Arthur, unable to keep the grin off his face, "But yeah, it means you can stay awhile."

Eames' answering grin was worth the risks, most of which Arthur hadn't even begun to calculate. He got out of bed and took the time to lay his book down, make his side, then go around and make Arthur's side as well so the bed was neat and ready for later.

Arthur waited him out.

Eames sighed dramatically and then vanished into the bathroom, neglecting just as Arthur had to take any clothing with him.

"Showoff," muttered Arthur, still grinning. He found clean clothes that smelled of lavender and cedar, worn jeans and a t-shirt from the Army that fit like a glove even after all these years. He dug his favorite boots out of his luggage, because he couldn't resist having a little designer style. When Eames emerged, predictably naked and using the towel on his hair, Arthur was busy sorting his laundry and hanging his suits.

"Ooh, laundry," said Eames, heading over to his own bag and bending down to rummage through.

Arthur couldn't help it, he laughed. "You're about as subtle as porn pop-up on a malware site," he said.

"Just making sure you know exactly what's on offer," said Eames cheerfully. "Do you top or bottom, as a rule?"

"I do what feels good," said Arthur with a shrug. "Bring that over here, we'll put your clothes in with mine, save water."

"Hm, I should've thought of that for the shower," teased Eames. He put on a pair of form-fitting boxer briefs in gaudy neon before dragging his suitcase over, and they talked quietly about a trip to the dry cleaners as they worked. "I am also versatile in bed, by the way," said Eames, standing up to put on one of his few remaining clean outfits.

Arthur watched him dress. "Will you tell me about the tattoos?" he asked, hefting the laundry basket.

"If you like," said Eames, following along, shirt untucked and socks in hand. "Need help?"

"Nah. Finish getting ready," Arthur replied, then he stopped and laughed. "There's probably no detergent, anyway."

Eames laughed, too, warm and in on the joke. "Maybe we'd better make a proper list, and not just of gins."

"Yeah," said Arthur. "I'll get my notebook, you put your shoes on." They made their way back to the bedroom and puttered around, getting shoes and keys, notebook and wallets, making sure everything that needed a hiding place was hidden before they headed to the front room.

"I suppose it would be irresponsible of me to install Uber," said Arthur, pulling up the number for a cab company.

"Lyft is less evil," said Eames cheerfully, "but we both know what you can do with someone's Uber history."

"I have a car in storage," said Arthur with a sigh. He tried to remember if he had everything he'd need to get it back up and running, and then just hit the number for the cab. "Fuck this, I need breakfast first."

"Caffeine before complex thought," agreed Eames. "We'll make two lists, the today list, and the soon list."

Arthur ordered the cab and hung up. "That's a good idea, though I think I can just call my mechanic to get the car and tune it up for us." He dredged the number up from his memory and called, hoping that this, too, would be quick and easy.

They were nearly to the diner by the time Arthur had the mechanic convinced that he would be able to get his money from Arthur when they came to pick up the car, and when Arthur hung up he let himself list to one side until he could hide his face in Eames' shoulder. "Why the fuck do people make things harder than they need to be?"

"Risk aversion," said Eames, twining his fingers through Arthur's. "People hate to lose what they already have or be made to feel stupid, you know that."

"You're not avoiding the risk this time," said Arthur quietly, squeezing Eames' hand. "What's changed?"

"Can't lose what I've never let myself have," said Eames. He pulled their hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss against one of Arthur's knuckles. "And I couldn't resist drunk, smart you." He walked more kisses across Arthur's fingers, index to pinkie, lips soft and terribly appealing.

"I like you," said Arthur. "I never knew that, really, but I do."

Eames chuckled. "We're not having our first kiss in the back of this cab, you'd never forgive me," said Eames, though he uncurled their hands enough to kiss Arthur's palm anyway. "But I like you, too, Arthur."

The cab pulled up in front of the diner, and Arthur let go long enough for Eames to pay, though he reclaimed Eames' hand once they were out. Arthur waited for it to pull away and then tugged Eames back from where he'd been heading toward the door. "This is a good place," he said, and slotted his mouth against Eames'.

Eames made a soft noise and wound an arm around Arthur's waist. Their kiss was soft and chaste, but lingering and, frankly, the best thing in Arthur's day so far. Or possibly second best, after Eames naked. 

"This is good," agreed Eames, smiling at him.

Arthur grinned back, then he tugged Eames' hand. "Come on, I need coffee."

Eames laughed and followed, letting himself be dragged along as they got a booth and perused the menus. The diner was more than half full, busy but not packed, and Arthur was very happy when the waitress brought them coffee cups without having to be asked. "Do you want tea or coffee, Eames?" he asked.

"Coffee's good for now, ta," he replied, smiling up at the waitress. "Could I have some milk for it?"

"'Course," said the waitress. "Need a few minutes?"

"Yes, please," said Arthur. "We'll have decided when you get back, though." He waited until she'd gone and then took a very long drink of the hot coffee. "Oh, fucking hell, I needed that."

Eames chuckled and mirrored him, braving the first awful sip black. "Terrible, but bloody hell I needed some caffeine."

"I'm going to have a bacon omelet with hash browns and a side of french toast," said Arthur. "And fried bread."

"Ooh, fried bread," said Eames. "I want their full English, I'm curious to see how they cock it up."

Arthur grinned, letting himself just be fond for once instead of being annoyed at Eames' assumptions. "Probably a lot, but they do have bangers here, and that weird mashed cabbage thing."

"Bubble and squeak! Brilliant," said Eames with a grin. "Ooh, and milk, cheers."

"What'll it be?" asked the waitress.

Arthur ordered, as did Eames, and they got big glasses of ice water to help combat their dehydration from last night. "I'm already starting to feel almost human," Arthur confessed while putting two creamers in his own coffee, now that there was room.

Eames dumped as much milk in his as the cup would hold, then took another long drink. "Oh, yes, that's the stuff."

Arthur grinned and sipped his own, finding it much more palatable now. "So, we need to prioritize our lists."

"I assume you're prepared to do all our note-taking?" teased Eames, those big hands curled around his chipped beige coffee mug, making it look practically petite.

"Of course," said Arthur. He pulled out his Moleskine and started a couple of lists, then got out his phone and pulled up his notes from last night. "Did you get the name of those cherries?"

Eames grinned, huge and delighted. "You remembered them," he said, pulling out his own phone and finding the photo for Arthur. "You got that vermouth, too, right?"

"Yeah, I really want another one of those cocktails from the end of the night," said Arthur. "I want to see if they're half as good sober."

Eames gave him a look that Arthur would usually have expected to be followed by a flippant, flirty remark, but instead he just took a sip of his coffee. "We'll need all the basics for caffeine, coffee, tea, milk, and sugar."

"Plus bread, butter, and jam," said Arthur. "I like toast and tea sometimes."

"Very British of you," said Eames. "Eggs, perhaps? That'll give us a quick meal tomorrow."

"And some fruit," said Arthur, a little half-smile finding its way to his mouth as he scribbled things down. "Wouldn't want to get scurvy because I'm too lazy to carry some oranges home."

"Clearly not," said Eames. "We'll eat dinner out, I guess?"

Arthur shrugged. "There's always pizza," he said. "I think this is enough, especially with cold stuff. We'll probably have to drop the food off and then go to the mechanic's, you can stay home if you don't want to deal with my car."

"Nonsense, the reward for dealing with your car is going to be spending a lot of your money on gin," Eames replied. "Besides, I always get a dose of schadenfreude out of watching you gently flay the people who've annoyed you by being less competent than expected."

Arthur looked down at the notebook, and then up at Eames, then quietly added lube and condoms to the list. "What else that's not food?"

"Washing powder, or, you know. For laundry," said Eames. "And fairy liquid, for dishes."

"Right," said Arthur, adding them to tomorrow's list. "We'll be all right without either for another day, right? Those are heavy, annoying in a cab."

"We should have the fairy liquid," said Eames. "We'll want clean dishes to eat toast off of."

"Hm, true," said Arthur, moving the dish soap to the other list. "No fairies required, however," he added dryly.

"Well," said Eames, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Whatever terrible innuendo he was about to make was thankfully lost when the waitress came back with their food, a huge tray and plate after plate of greasy diner goodness, plus warm syrup for Arthur's french toast, and refills on the terrible coffee. They kept putting things on their three lists, with Eames looking very happily surprised when he spotted the sex supplies on the 'today' list.

"So, I take it I'm going to get my chance to prove my prowess and sincerity?" said Eames, looking through the lists.

Arthur gave him a wry, flirty little smirk. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" he teased, then he let himself be serious for a minute. "You took good care of me, and it seems like you want, um, more than just, you know."

"It seems worth a try, anyway," Eames gave him a sheepish little-boy-lost look for a moment, and Arthur was charmed despite himself, "I've never been good at the more, though I am excellent at the you know."

Arthur huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his hair, which was loose and curling at the ends the way he always hated when he was trying to look his age. "As you can probably imagine, I'm about the same. But hey, we've got a house, a long vacation, and a huge pile of cash, so we might as well make a go of it."

Eames, instead of laughing, got a thoughtful, pleased look on his face and said, "We do, don't we? I am completely behind this plan."

"And if it doesn't work out," added Arthur, "there's always Iceland."

They both got quiet then, eating and casting one another speculative glances. Arthur's headache had receded and taken with it the last of his uncertainty. He was going to give Eames a shot, both in bed and out, and if they sucked at playing house together he'd at least get some good sex out of it.

Eames paid the check, while Arthur managed to put away every bite of food in front of him. "I am so full I may never need to eat again," he said, but he was grinning as they walked out.

"You say that now, but I know you. You're a bottomless pit," said Eames teasingly. "Remember that time with the pizzas."

"That was only two larges," said Arthur, but he was grinning. He led Eames across the parking lot to the grocery store, half his mind already ranging ahead to everything they'd need to do to make the house really liveable. "And you had part of one."

"You're not helping your case," said Eames. He caught up Arthur's hand and threaded their fingers together, looking unsure until Arthur gave his hand a squeeze.

Arthur tugged a cart out of the row and cocked his head at Eames. "Come on, let's see if we can manage domesticity."

At that time of day the supermarket wasn't too busy, but there were just enough other people to make navigating the aisles a chore. Arthur started them off in the produce section, despite Eames trying to get him to steer over to the sex supplies.

"I can make notes for later if we go aisle by aisle," said Arthur, tugging the cart off in the right direction.

Eames harrumphed dramatically, but allowed the diversion. "Oranges, you said?"

"I figured. And bananas maybe, those are always good for a quick snack," said Arthur. Eames darted off ahead while Arthur got out his Moleskine and started making notes for things they might want. Limes and lemons for cocktails, definitely. Some actual produce for dinners, but that might require meal planning which they were definitely not up for, though he grabbed a bag of baby carrots for munching on and added hummus to the later list.

"Rabbit food so soon?" said Eames, circling back around with a decent-looking bag of clementines and a bunch of somewhat green bananas.

"It's good for me, and you might eat it," said Arthur. He examined the fruit for blemishes.

Eames huffed a laugh. "I do know how to manage this much, you know," he said, mock-offended.

"Given your propensity for junk food on jobs, I really did not," said Arthur, but there were no moldy ones in the bag, and the bananas were as pristine as one could hope for. "But I'll allow it."

Eames snorted. "There's the condescension I long for, darling."

"And the sarcasm that won my heart," replied Arthur dryly. "Do you have any favorite fruits or a weird thing for smoothies I don't know about?"

"I can never get smoothies to work out at home," said Eames, "so that'll be all up to you." He crowded in on Arthur so he could see the notebook and added, "We might want some fresh herbs for cocktails, too, mint and the like, yeah?"

"Yeah, or for cooking," said Arthur, making a note. "Frozen fruit is good for smoothies, too, we'll see if I can remember the secret to making the texture work out."

"I'm absolutely certain you can find out," said Eames, beaming. "What's in this next aisle, then?"

"Bread, and the bakery's over here, too," said Arthur, leading Eames to the fresher baked goods first. "What do you want with tea?"

"You," said Eames, smirking. "But bread for toast will do until you're ready to be mine." He sauntered over to poke at a few of the fancy fresh-baked loaves while Arthur explored the various pastry options, making a note to see about danishes and croissants when they came back. And to find a proper bakery to buy them at, for that matter.

He flipped to a new page and started a list of shops they'd want to find, adding a good liquor store and bakery. "What else do we need to shop for that we don't want to get here?" he asked Eames, who had meandered back over with a loaf of bread and a bag of sad-looking pre-made crumpets. "Don't get those, they look pathetic."

"Maybe I like pathetic things," said Eames. "Just like you last night, pigeon."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You liked drunk me, you got a cuddle out of it." He put the bread in the cart and pointed for Eames to put the crumpets back. "I'll buy you crumpet rings later, those seriously look terrible."

"Will you make me fresh ones, crumpet?" asked Eames, putting them on a random display.

"Only if you put those back where you found them," Arthur replied sharply. "Don't be a dick, or we're going to end up having to find a new supermarket, too."

"Pish tosh," scoffed Eames, but he put them back where they belonged. 

Arthur grinned despite himself. "Come on, let's explore the other baked goods," he said, pushing his cart into the aisle filled with pre-sliced bread, Ritz crackers, and what seemed like an obscene variety of Oreo cookies.

"So how are English muffins not like the world's saddest crumpets?" asked Eames, poking at the package.

"I'm pretty sure they're just an entirely different baked good," said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to want some junk food later, but I don't know if we need to haul this stuff today." He perused the cookies, wondering if Eames would mock him too much for getting pastel-frosted Circus Animals.

"Oh, I want these now," said Eames, plucking the bag of pink-and-white cookies off the rack in front of Arthur. "These are the worst biscuits ever and I adore them."

Arthur did the only thing he could do and kissed Eames right there in the middle of the grocery store.

"I'd ask what that was for, but if it means I get my terrible biscuits I don't even care," said Eames cheerfully, plopping them into the cart.

"Yeah," said Arthur, "it means we get our terrible cookies."

They gave up that aisle as done and ended up in front of the dairy case. "What do you call semi-skimmed milk here?" said Eames, already swanning off to look at a gaudy display of sugary breakfast cereals.

"Probably 2%," said Arthur, resisting the urge to google it for all of ten seconds before he pulled out his phone. He huffed in annoyance at the weird varieties of British dairy goods, but decided he'd been right the first time.

"Your phone is not going in my tea," said Eames teasingly.

"No, but it did answer your question," said Arthur, opening the fridge door to pull out a half gallon. He turned to find Eames poking at the flavored milks. "I don't think now is the time for chocolate milk."

"Spoilsport," said Eames, leaning into the contact while Arthur brushed past him.

"You can get whatever weird food you want once we've got my car," said Arthur recklessly. He snagged a pint of half and half and checked both off his list.

When he turned back, Eames had already found the seasonal endcap two aisles down and started poking through the weird, brightly-colored plastic dishes and candy. "You're like a five-year-old," he said, rolling his eyes and heading into the next aisle. There wasn't much there to tempt Eames, though Arthur snuck a box of Star Wars mac and cheese into the cart on the theory that it might make a good midnight snack.

"I'm not the only one shopping like I'm five years old here," said Eames, having followed at just the wrong moment.

"Maybe I just like easy pasta when I'm postcoital," said Arthur, moving on down the aisle.

Eames laughed. "Well, I won't argue about that, then."

They swung through the canned goods without picking anything up, though Eames did threaten him with sardine breath and Arthur threatened back with buying Spaghetti-Os, in a way that he was pretty sure would end up being prophetic. Then they came to the display they'd both been waiting for, and stopped in front of the wall of coffee, tea, and other hot drink mixes.

"Is there any decent tea in this country?" said Eames, picking up a box of what appeared to be Sleepytime Tea.

"That's herbal tea," said Arthur. "Don't you like Earl Grey? I think there's Twinings."

"Hm," said Eames, looking pleased to be disgruntled. "American Twinings isn't the same."

"Whatever you say, dear," said Arthur dryly, turning to peer at the various coffee offerings. He had no idea if his coffee maker was even usable, but he'd found a French press in the cupboard, so he made sure to choose a grind that would be compatible. He resisted the lure of coconut caramel in favor of what he hoped was a half-decent bag of Dunkin Donuts dark roast.

"I've been spoiled by Paris," said Arthur with a sigh. "I'm going to have to buy an espresso machine and hate myself forever." He dumped the bag in the cart anyway.

Eames came over with a look of pure delight on his face, holding a small blue cube. "PG Tips! Now this is proper tea," he said, showing it off.

"Now we need sugar and butter," said Arthur, "and jam, damn, we passed that back with the bread, didn't we?"

"I distracted you with candy biscuits," said Eames. 

Arthur snorted a laugh. "You really did," he said, shaking his head. "Come on, let's get the jam and butter and hit the pharmacy."

"Pharmacy? For - oh. Oh, yes, absolutely necessary, that," said Eames, a grin showing off his stupidly endearing crooked teeth. 

"Are you going to insist on, like, gooseberry jam or some shit?" said Arthur, pushing the cart with a smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

Eames chucked. "No shit, I assure you, but we'll see what they have on offer. I'm not a fan of that terrible grape stuff, anyway."

"No, almost no one over twelve is," agreed Arthur. He turned down the aisle and his mind was immediately distracted by the gleaming bottles of honey and syrup. "Oh, hm."

"Arthur, would you let me get you and the sheets sticky?" said Eames, plucking a honey bear off the shelf.

Arthur chuckled. "Not until we've got laundry detergent," he said. He picked up a bottle of maple syrup instead and put it in the cart. "I would, however, let you share some Eggo waffles with me. They are an excellent post-sex snack."

Eames put the bear in the cart, too, kissing Arthur to forestall any objections. "Let's see about the issue of jam," he said, going to peruse the many little glass jars, attention mostly on the fancy kinds at and above eye level, rather than the national brand at just the right height for kids to grab.

"Ooh, cherry, how about this one?" he said, showing Arthur the jar.

"I'm not sure that's appropriate to either of us," teased Arthur, reaching past him and snagging some apricot preserves in the same high-end brand. "We can get that, but I want this, too."

"I'm a terrible influence," said Eames, sounding delighted.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he could feel his dimples showing. They got the sugar on the way past the baking aisle, with Eames darting in to snag it off a shelf and Arthur not caring in the least as long as it was real sugar of some kind, though he added a note about flour and spices for later. After that, Eames wandered away again, this time down the rows of frozen food cases while Arthur found the butter and eggs. He also grabbed a package of pre-shredded cheese in case of omelets, and then wondered if it would all be okay on the cab ride home.

"Look what I found!" crowed Eames, brandishing a handful of reusable bags, one of which appeared to both be insulated and half-full.

"What's in the bag?" asked Arthur, putting it in the bottom of the cart and finding three pints of ice cream and two boxes of Eggos, regular and mini blueberry. Arthur laughed and rearranged the bag to accommodate the rest of their cold items, and gave Eames a kiss. "Good job."

Eames beamed, and this time Arthur kept him from wandering off with a single word. "Pharmacy."

"Ooh, do you have preferred brands, petal?" said Eames, hand resting over Arthur's on the cart handle.

Arthur pushed them along to the display and sighed. "If I did, it wouldn't be one of these," he said, wrinkling his nose at the selection.

"Needs must," said Eames, though he didn't seem any more impressed. "Do I need the extra large condoms?"

"I'm a little concerned that you think I know the answer to that already," said Arthur impishly. "I don't mind a bit of a tight fit."

Eames leered and plucked a few different boxes off the shelf. "I'm feeling very optimistic about needing all of these."

"Well, I've heard you interview well," said Arthur dryly, "perhaps we'll find a tenure-track position open."

"I have heard it's better when you get tenure," said Eames. "More room for creativity in one's pursuits."

Arthur snorted and put two bottles of the least offensive lube in the cart. "You do like to dream bigger."

"Oh, the biggest, darling," said Eames, leaning in for a slightly showy kiss. Arthur considered objecting, then he spotted the old man glaring at them from in front of the adult diapers and added a bit more tongue instead.

"Let's get home and conduct that oral exam," said Arthur. "I need to probe your qualifications more thoroughly than this venue supports."

"I'm told I test very well in that area," said Eames delightedly, and rolled the cart off toward the checkout lanes. He took it upon himself to charm the cashier while Arthur called them another cab, which was waiting when they finished up and left with their spoils.

"We're not bad at this," said Eames, sliding in the back and wrangling the bags while Arthur gave the address.

"It's only the first day," said Arthur, but he had a half-smile on his face he couldn't seem to quite will away. "Just wait until we've got to decide what's for dinner in three months."

"I look forward to it," said Eames, hiding his surprise under a blinding grin.

Arthur flushed. "I hope that wasn't assuming too much," he said, but he didn't get anything else out because Eames kissed him soundly.

"I've been trying not to read too much into things, since I'm the guest here," said Eames. "It's delightful to find you've been secretly on the same page all along."

Arthur stole another kiss, soft and warm, and grinned at him. "I have no idea when this started to seem like a good idea," he said, "but now that we're going for it, I'm all in."

* * *

They had the cab wait while they put the groceries away enough to be going on with, and Arthur almost regretted that he'd been efficient earlier and the mechanic was waiting for him to show up with money.

"Thanks," said Arthur, giving the address while Eames got in and closed the door.

"So, what's the plan once we've liberated your car at great expense?" asked Eames teasingly.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, we could go find a high-end liquor store and raid their gin aisle," he said, and then he leaned in and whispered in Eames' ear, "Or we could drive right back here and fuck."

Eames made a choked noise and looked over at Arthur's wicked grin. "I'll take door number two, we can make tomorrow shopping day," he said, grinning back. His face was doubly handsome lit up in happy surprise, much more genuine than his usual flirtatious leer.

"I suspect we'll end up having a lot of shopping days," said Arthur with a sigh, "but fortunately we have the perfect reward system already built in." He laced their fingers together again and leaned in for another kiss, this one just enough deeper than the first few to add an extra layer of promise to his words.

"We really, really do," said Eames, voice gratifyingly rough. He laughed and pressed his forehead to Arthur's. "It figures you'd be a bit of a tease."

"It's really more of a promise," said Arthur, grinning mischievously.

"Not helping," said Eames. "How did I get so lucky?"

Arthur kissed him softly, all sweetness this time. "You took good care of me and had a secret stash of ethics under all that charm."

"Not to mention being one of very few people to pull off inception," said Eames with a chuckle. "That makes me very impressive in the right circles, you know."

"Yeah, but I gave you a kick without gravity," said Arthur, "so I'm just as impressive as you and your ad hoc psychotherapy."

"Both of us are geniuses," said Eames, leaning into him with a warm, satisfied smile. "I bet he's happier than he would've been."

"I know he will be, he'll get to say goodbye to a father who loved him instead of a stranger whose ideals he could never live up to," said Arthur. "Not to mention getting away from his asshole 'Uncle Peter.'"

"And of course we and our client will have greatly benefited," said Eames dryly.

Arthur leaned over and kissed him again as the pulled up at the mechanic's. "We already have," he said with a smirk, then got out and left Eames to pay for the cab.

The garage wasn't looking quite as nice as Arthur remembered it, which probably explained the man's quibbling over money. Arthur would have to do some research and see if it was time to find someone new -- but later, after they'd settled into the house and each other. "I'm Arthur Lexington," he said, glad he'd thought to get everything for that alias together before they left the house. "I believe you've got my car?"

"Which car is that?" said the man behind the counter, looking utterly disinterested.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "My Mustang? I called about it earlier and was told it wouldn't take too long to tune up and get ready for driving."

That got a little more life behind the dull eyes, but the only response was a grunt and a dirty thumb pointed toward the other doorway before he went back to his paperwork.

Eames put in an appearance, and Arthur dragged him through the door and into the garage, trying not to transfer too much of his irritation onto Eames. 

"They'd better not be fucking up my car," Arthur muttered.

Eames chuckled and kissed his ear in what Arthur thought was a delightfully fond manner. "I'm sure they won't know what hit them if they do," said Eames. 

"Oh, hey," said a female voice, followed by a stocky, tall woman in overalls and a Hawaiian shirt. "Which car are you? We're kinda backed up."

"The Shelby GT," said Arthur. "You're new?"

"Yeah, the previous owner retired and his paperwork was less than stellar," she said. "I'm Ether."

Arthur shook her hand despite the smudges of grease. "Arthur, so Eames here will say both our names about the same."

Eames chuckled. "Ether, Arthur, close enough," he said obligingly. "You have a sports car, darling?"

Ether's grin got brighter. "It's the 2007, not one of the ones from the 60s, but she's in pretty pristine condition. It'll be about 15 more minutes to get the tune-up done, though?"

"Yeah, that's fine," said Arthur. "I can see you're doing the best you can, though it might be time to replace your charming assistant out there."

She laughed. "Yeah, well, Ed's having a bad day. Apparently someone yelled at him a lot earlier."

"He deserved it," said Arthur. "Can he handle my paperwork while we wait, or should I just be patient?"

She shot another glance back toward the door and said, "Maybe you'd better come visit your car."

They chuckled and followed her to the last bay, where Arthur's beautiful tungsten grey metallic convertible shone in the shadows. "At least it's clean," said Arthur, walking over to run his hand down the fender.

"Arthur, this is gorgeous," said Eames, fingertips trailing across the back as he walked around. The hood was up, but the lines were there, and the promise of beautiful handling and a very nice ride indeed.

Arthur grinned at him. "I never said I was entirely practical," he teased. "There's enough trunk space for shopping, though anything too big we'll have to get delivered."

Eames chuckled. "You're ridiculous," he said, coming back around to stand close and get a kiss.

Arthur allowed it, having seen how Ether perked up at the implication that they were together. "I know," he said. "So, Ether, when do I need to bring it back for the next check-up?"

She chuckled, the sound rich and low. "Depends on how you drive it, but it should be fine for at least 3000 miles."

"Anything you'd prefer to check sooner?" asked Arthur. "I don't want to skimp on the maintenance now that I'm finally home to drive it."

Ether poked her head out and then nodded. "I know you needed it fast today, but if you can bring her back next week I'd like to do a more thorough once-over."

"We'll make an appointment," said Eames cheerfully. "Arthur loves those."

"We really need to do some errands that are a huge pain in a cab," said Arthur, poking Eames in the ribs. "Once we're basically set up, I can give it back for a day or so."

"But not too long," said Eames, reaching out to pet the top. "We have things to do and this car really does need to be driven."

"That sounds perfect," she said, relaxing more and more now that the Arthur of phone call fame was turning out to be actually quite reasonable. "Everything seems fine, but you know how it is when a car's been garaged."

"I always want to check equipment over myself if it's important," said Arthur, shooting Eames a wink and a significant look at the equipment he hoped to be inspecting very soon. "Some things aren't worth the risk."

"So," said Eames, sidling closer and shamelessly putting a hand on Arthur's ass, "how long have you owned this fine establishment?"

"'Bout 18 months now," she said. "There used to be another mechanic, but he quit a few months ago."

"It's always hard to manage when you lose someone unexpectedly," said Arthur, thinking of the clusterfuck of the Cobol job, Nash's fate, and Ariadne as replacement. "I hope you find someone surprisingly good to replace him."

"Like our poppet?" said Eames with a chuckle. "She's got a future, if she's not been scared off by the Cobb Experience."

"Fuck knows," said Arthur. "I won't be going back for a long while, so I wouldn't blame her if she left it all behind."

"You'll go back eventually, though," said Eames. "We all do, eventually."

Arthur gave Eames a soft kiss. "I'll enjoy the time off first."

They stood there just enjoying the closeness for a minute, and then Ether interrupted. "The keys are inside, want to start her up for me?"

"My pleasure," said Eames impishly, hopping in before Arthur could object.

Arthur came around to watch the engine purring to life, pleased that it started on the first try. A lot of things were covered up in this engine, but there was enough movement visible to make Arthur happy he'd bothered to come around to see it. "It sounds good," he said. "Is it ready yet?"

"Almost," said Ether. "Need to adjust the timing a little."

Arthur watched her fiddling, reminded of his own work keeping the PASIV clean and maintained, though the car was an entirely different sort of arcane device. He wasn't really sure what instinct had prompted him to trust her competence, but now that he was seeing her work he was glad he had.

"There we go, hear the difference?" she said, pausing to wipe her hands before reaching for the hood.

Arthur nodded. "It's even more of a purr," he said, though that didn't explain the sound change at all, really. He stepped back so she could close up, and then came around to Eames. "Put the top down?"

"Sure, if I can figure out how," said Eames with a grin.

Arthur chuckled and showed him, then let Ether drag him up front to pay and make the appointment for next week while Eames played with the controls.

"Good guy you've got there," she said, looking amused.

Arthur grinned at her shamelessly. "Yeah, when he wants to be," he said. "Fortunately, something about me makes him want to be." He didn't bother to explain that the description could be applied both ways, between the two of them. "We're feeling things out right now, but we've known each other awhile."

Ed ceded the desk without a word, making himself scarce while Ether grabbed some paperwork and Arthur sorted his Lexington ID and credit card out of his wallet. "Payment in full today," said Arthur, handing them over.

"You haven't looked at the total," she said, but she took the cards anyway, comparing them to each other and Arthur before handing back the driver's license. 

"It's not going to max out that card," said Arthur with a chuckle. "Don't forget to add the rush fee. He was very insistent about the rush fee."

Eames came ambling in just then and started poking at the racks of sad-looking snacks as well. "Buy me some terrible American food, darling?"

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, go on, get me something, too," he said. "I guess you'd better wait on the charge."

"Let's do the appointment," she said, looking between them. "I take it the car isn't, like, the pinnacle of your life savings?"

"I guess for some guys it would be," said Arthur, "but no, I've had the good fortune to find work that pays well."

"Especially recently," said Eames, coming over with an armful of crinkly packages, which he dumped on the counter. "Fizzy drinks next, and then I'm going to raid this rack of sugary horribleness." He gestured at the candy rack by the register.

Arthur laughed. "Of course you are, dear," he said, but he knew his dimples were showing. "So, next week, what's your slow day?"

"Living the unscheduled life, I see," she said dryly. She pulled out a fat, old-fashioned appointment book and flipped through it. "How about a week from Tuesday? That'll give you time to shop, and me time to clear out the Monday morning oops crowd."

"Sounds good, let's say 11am?" said Arthur, pulling out his phone and putting it in his calendar while she wrote the appointment into her ledger. "Whatever maintenance you didn't get to today, that's what I want, the full work-up."

She wrote '2007 Shelby, full monty' in under Arthur's name and number. "All right, let's get started adding you up," she said, as Eames came back with an absurd assortment of soda and a couple of reusable shopping bags.

"Let's," said Arthur wryly, reaching over to snag a few of his own favorites out of the candy rack before Eames got busy denuding it for his own amusement.

She showed him her write-up of the actual work on the car, including the agreed-upon rush fee, and then started ringing the rest of it up on her register, starting with the bags. Arthur watched, stealing out a Coke for himself once she'd rung it up, and otherwise not bothering to protest Eames' obvious play to make Arthur hand her even more of his money.

In the end, they just managed to top four figures, and only then because Eames went back for a third bag and another assortment of weird snacks.

"You're ridiculous," she said, grinning and shaking her head as she ran the credit card.

"Yeah," said Eames, cuddled up at Arthur's side, "but we're the good kind of ridiculous that helps you keep the lights on."

She handed Arthur back his card and the receipt to sign, nodding. "Yeah, you are. Thank you guys for this, it'll help a lot."

"I'll be sure to let you know if he develops a fondness for any of," Arthur gestured to the three packed bags of snacks, "this."

Ether grinned and shook Arthur's hand. "You do that, and I'll order a few treats for your baby for the appointment. There's a few little things I noticed that could use preventative replacement but I didn't have the parts or time today."

"Good," said Arthur. He took the keys from Eames and handed him the two heaviest bags. "We'll drop it off and let you have at for a few days, once we're settled in."

"I promise she'll be shipshape when you get her back," said Ether, a wide grin lighting up her grease-smudged face. "I'll go open the bay for you, c'mon."

They followed her to the car and got their snacks loaded up, Arthur taking the driver's seat this time while Eames got in on the other side and Ether opened the garage up to the chilly outside air. They waved cheerfully as Arthur backed carefully out, and then they were on the way home.

"You are the sweetest man," said Eames, sounding utterly delighted.

"You're the one who spent three figures on shitty junk food just to make her smile," said Arthur, but he was grinning right back. "I like her."

"I do, too, and if I stay and get my own expensive treat I'll make sure to get her to tune it up at unnecessarily small intervals," said Eames. "If you keep me."

"If both of those things happen, yes," said Arthur, shooting Eames a rather soft glance. He smirked, taking a corner entirely too fast, and added, "And if the sex goes half as well as we hope it will."

Eames groaned, but it didn't sound at all like he was objecting. "Arthur, how did I ever resist you this long?" he said.

"I was being much more of an asshole," said Arthur cheerfully. "I'm a lot easier to resist at work."

"But not as easy as all that, since it led me to adorable drunk you, and then this wonderful man at my side," said Eames, voice full of warmth and then, as his hand crept up Arthur's thigh, heat. "I can't wait to see you all laid out against those sheets."

"Since we don't have laundry stuff yet, we are putting a towel down before you fuck me," said Arthur, whipping around a corner and then slowing drastically as they slipped under the trees and into his residential neighborhood. It was one thing to enjoy the car, and another to run over someone's pet just because he was showing off.

"Practical as always, that's my Arthur," said Eames cheerfully. "I'm topping first, then?"

"Yeah," said Arthur, flashing him a warm grin, "If that's all right with you?"

"Oh, petal, anything you want to do with my naked body is all right with me," said Eames, rather recklessly in Arthur's opinion. But then again, they'd pretty well established that all of Arthur's intentions were the fun kind of bad.

Arthur pulled into the garage and grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Eames. Let's go to bed." He popped the trunk and they got out, Eames grabbing all three bags while Arthur took care of the alarm, and got the garage door and trunk both shut. They dropped the junk food off in the kitchen, snagging the lube and condoms out of the grocery bags and leaving the rest to deal with later, and then Arthur pulled Eames close and kissed him against the wall.

"Arthur," groaned Eames, his voice rough enough to send a frisson of lust through Arthur's already-aroused body. "You'll really let me have you?"

"I think 'let' is not the right word here," said Arthur, kissing him again and then tugging him down the hall to the stairs. "Demand. Insist. Require."

Eames laughed and kissed him on the stairs, following him up as Arthur ascended backwards, pressing Arthur against the wall next to the linen closet so he could grab the requested towel. Arthur kissed him even harder for that moment of thoughtfulness, and started in on Eames' clothing, wanting them both naked as soon as physically possible.

"Arthur, petal, I had no idea you were going to be like this," said Eames, his own hands working at Arthur's clothing with just as much enthusiasm. "I would have done this so much sooner."

"Might not have been," said Arthur, pausing to let them both get out of their clothes properly before stealing the towel to lay out on the bed and planting his ass firmly in the middle of it. "Neither of us were who we are now."

Eames let out a stuttering sigh, eyes roaming over Arthur's naked body. "You've always been dangerously tempting, though," he said, bringing himself, the supplies, and his gorgeous cock over to bed.

Arthur grinned up at him. "You've always been sexy and charming, but now you're interested in me and not just my ass," he said. "That wasn't necessarily true before."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Eames conceded, laying himself out over Arthur and kissing him. His mouth was lush and hot and he knew how to make good use of it, curling Arthur's toes with want just from kissing.

"Now...now I believe it's true," gasped Arthur, rocking up into him just to feel their cocks brush.

"Good," said Eames, kissing him one more time. He moved off and got the lube, fighting with the safety seal while Arthur grinned at him and traced his tattoos with curious fingertips. Eames got the bottle open, kissed Arthur fiercely, and slicked his fingers. He slipped them between Arthur's splayed legs to rub over his sensitive entrance.

"Yes, yes," Arthur encouraged him, rocking up into the touches. "More, Eames, in me, touch me," he said, letting the cliches bubble up and hoping Eames wouldn't tease him too much.

Eames groaned instead, pushing a finger inside and kissing Arthur like it had been poetry. "You, Arthur, how are you, god, how did I ever wait?" he said, sweet words murmured between kisses while he worked his finger in fully, slow and gentle. His hands were softer than Arthur expected, the hands of an artist, and he explored Arthur like he was discovering a new sculpture from a master, face full of wonder and a certain delicious acquisitiveness.

"Smart, smarter than you look," Arthur gasped out, pulling him in for a kiss to take the sting out of his tease. "Good hands," he whispered against Eames' lips, gasping and biting the lush lower one ever so gently when Eames worked in a second finger. Arthur was tight but Eames was being careful and patient, so the stretch was all the good kind, his body relearning a long-neglected pleasure.

"Tight arse," said Eames, licking his bitten lip and then Arthur's for good measure. "Going to feel so good, petal."

Arthur moaned out a laugh. "I never, never knew why, the pet names," he gasped, feeling his body tighten and relax around Eames' thick fingers. "Always liked them," he admitted, a secret he'd never intended to tell when he thought Eames would never be his.

"Good," said Eames. He rocked his hips against Arthur, rubbing his erection against Arthur's thigh, hot and wet-tipped and soft-skinned, his eagerness made physical. 

Arthur wrapped a hand around him, feeling the girth and solidity and finding himself equally as eager to feel Eames inside him as Eames was to get there.

Eames' strokes stuttered at the touch and he pressed his forehead to Arthur's. "Not too much, Arthur, I don't want to spoil this," he said, voice ragged.

"I don't want you to," said Arthur with a quirk of a smile, moving his hand to stroke Eames' flank instead, feeling a different kind of solidity there. "One more finger, and I'll be ready, I think."

Eames kissed him hard and then leaned back to watch Arthur's face as he pressed in three fingers now, eyes flicking down to the hidden space he was exploring. Arthur found himself touching Eames' familiar face, stroking along his cheekbones and feeling the fuzz of his stubble, softer than Arthur had expected though still enough to leave his skin sensitive and pink in its wake. Arthur arched his hips up, eyelids fluttering as the fingers sank deeper in response, feeling his entrance open more readily now as his body's desire rose up to meet Eames' touches.

It seemed like hours and no time at all before Eames pulled his fingers out and fumbled with the condom packet. Arthur let out a shameless whimper of loss and spread himself wider. The afternoon sunlight filtered in between the blinds, striping designs over Eames' already-decorated skin, making him golden and lovely as he rolled the condom onto himself, stroked lube over his cock, a sculpture in modern pornography. "Ready, darling?"

"Ready, dear," said Arthur, the words too earnest to sound sarcastic this time. They took a moment to get into a comfortable position and make sure Arthur's arse was still firmly on the towel, and then Eames was sinking into him in shallow thrusts, each inch won with pleasure and patience until he was fully buried in Arthur's body.

Arthur's breath shuddered and kicked into high gear as Eames started moving. Eames set a rhythm that was neither languid nor punishing, a steady rock of their bodies that pulled moans and whimpers out of Arthur. He tried to keep up a kiss, addicted already to Eames' lush mouth, but mostly he ended up panting and writhing, hands gripping Eames' strong shoulders and legs wrapped around Eames' hips. Arthur was spread wide around Eames' bulk, pressed to the mattress under the muscular weight of him, and he felt every glorious thrust through his whole body.

Eames gradually sped his movements until they were both slick with sweat and breathless, until Arthur could feel the tingle of pleasure to his curling toes. He tried to gasp out a warning but orgasm swept over him, and all he could do was buck and cry out as he spilled into the space between their bodies.

"Arthur, fucking, ohh!" said Eames, voice full of wonder, words turning to moans as he followed Arthur over the edge and came too, cock pulsing inside Arthur's sensitive body.

Arthur shivered and pulled him in for a kiss. "We're pretty fucking good together," he said, voice hoarse.

Eames grinned and kissed him again. "You're incredible, and I'm amazing, so of course we are," he said. One more stolen kiss, and then he was pulling out and disposing of the condom while Arthur sighed over the loss.

"Let's just have a quick shower and a nap," said Arthur, stretching languidly. "Keep the sheets clean a little longer."

Eames chuckled. "Very practical, that's the Arthur I know and adore," he said. 

Eames helped Arthur up and they rinsed off in the shower, kissing the whole time and only bothering with soap on the important bits. Five minutes later the towel was in the hamper and the two of them were curled back up in bed with Arthur wrapped shamelessly around Eames like an octopus. He breathed in the scent of Eames' skin, mostly warmth and a hint of soap, and let himself drift off.

After everything, Arthur was pretty sure Eames would be around when he woke up.

* * *

"All right, this is the Venus No. 2," said Eames, showing Arthur the bottle. They'd spent a couple of days subsisting on sex and pizza, and finally gotten out of the house to get groceries and alcohol that afternoon. Their reward was Arthur cooking a proper dinner, and afterward Eames played bartender with their new stash of gin, mixers, and garnishes.

"And this is the No. 1, right?" said Arthur, tapping his nearly-done martini. "This is the one from the bar."

"That's right, darling," said Eames, grinning broadly. They were four drinks each in, and Arthur was already starting to sway a little.

"I like this one a lot," said Arthur. "But I want to try the new one, compare the tasting notes. The orange shines through this one even with a cherry instead of a twist of lemon." He was enjoying the contrast between the herbal juniper notes and the sweetness of the brandied cherry.

Eames beamed at him. "We'll try this without the cherry first, though," he said, mixing up a matched pair of martinis for them.

Arthur cleansed his palate by downing another glass of ice water, glad they'd made sure the freezer was stocked up. He got up and went over to the fridge door to get some more cold water out of the dispenser, ignoring Eames' amused snort when he swayed slightly on the way. "If you want drunk sex later, you won't laugh now."

"Oh, bloody hell, I really do want drunk sex later," said Eames, sounding very sincere indeed. "I bet you're a wildcat."

"I'm already a wildcat," said Arthur. "I scratched up your shoulder." He sat with his water and waited impatiently for Eames to slide his drink over. It was a warm amber color despite having the dry vermouth instead of sweet, the gin itself aged in oak casks.

"And I loved it," said Eames. He took a moment to smell the drink, then tapped glasses with Arthur. "Bottoms up, petal."

"Is that for now or later?" teased Arthur. He inhaled the scent himself before trying it, getting another hint of orange and spice. The first sip was sharply citrus and herbal, but sweeter and rounder than the no. 1 had been. "Oh, I like this," said Arthur. "Mm, there's the fennel, and sage, and that hint of whiskey."

"It's good, spiced as well as herbal," Eames agreed. He took another sip, eyes closing in pleasure. "This one will be lovely with the Antica."

"We'll try that tomorrow," said Arthur, picking up the remains of his previous martini to compare them.

"Will we?" said Eames, clearly picking up on Arthur's implication. He started to close up containers and check lids on bottles, grinning all the while.

"Yeah," said Arthur. "And I think you should ride me, I haven't fucked you enough."

Eames' eyebrows went up, but he didn't protest. "As you wish," he said instead. He finished off his own previous drink, mming all the while. "This one is more citrus and less spice," he said. "Sharper. Good for a nice cold martini, though."

Arthur nodded, feeling warm all over not just from gin or anticipation, but to have Eames still interested in sharing his ridiculous hobby. 

"This one will be amazing with the Antica, though," said Arthur, toasting him with the No. 2. He took another sip and savoured the spiciness of it, woodsy and warm, letting out a little hum of happiness. "This is a good one to just drink on cool nights when we want to cuddle up and watch dumb tv and blow each other."

"I fully agree with everything about that statement," said Eames. He was still moving quite smoothly as he put bottles away and cleaned up the area they'd been using, which Arthur found quite vexing.

"Do you have a much higher tolerance or did you short yourself?" he asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Eames chuckled. "I outweigh you by a fair amount," he pointed out, coming around the table to sit by Arthur, drink in hand, and steal a kiss. "I have fairly poured for us tonight, but I'm glad you wanted to stop before we're too drunk for sex."

Arthur beamed at him, pulling him in for another kiss. "It seems fair, since you were such a gentleman the first time around," he said. He took another sip of the drink, which he realized had been a short pour for both of them and probably wisely so, and let out a little hum of enjoyment.

Eames chuckled and kissed his hair. "I've already been amply rewarded for not being a total arsehole," he said, "but I'll take this one, too." 

"Finish your drink," said Arthur, but he was grinning. He drank off the last swig of his own and set down the empty glass on the empty table, then leaned into Eames, nose buried in the surprisingly pleasant fabric of his shirt. Eames smelled warm as always, masculine, with a hint of cologne underneath the soap and shampoo they'd decided to both share.

"Of course, petal," said Eames, snuggling Arthur close with one arm. He sipped at his drink again, taking his time while Arthur took liberties. 

Arthur got Eames' shirt untucked and slipped his hands up under the silky fabric to feel the warm solidity of his body beneath, the soft skin over his belly and crisp hairs leading down into his pants. Eames made a delicious sound of approval and finished off his drink, then pulled Arthur into a kiss. "Dishes tomorrow, it's bedtime now."

"Acceptable," said Arthur, letting Eames steady him as they stood, letting Eames take over with the kisses and getting them upstairs to the bedroom while he concentrated on getting Eames' buttons open and running his hands over the inked skin of Eames' muscular chest.

Eames got Arthur undressed and laid out on the bed, on which Arthur was very amused to find there was already a clean towel waiting. Arthur stroked himself to full hardness, watching while Eames undressed, making another of those pleased little hums as Eames put their clothes in approximately the right places largely for the purpose of bending over and giving Arthur a show.

"Want me to finger you a bit? Or you could sit on my face," said Arthur, grabbing the lube and a condom.

"I should probably save that last for when you're a bit more sober," said Eames with a grin, "but I do love your hands." He crawled into bed and lifted one of Arthur's hands to his full lips, kissed and sucked at Arthur's fingers. He plucked the condom out of Arthur's other hand and took it upon himself to roll it down over Arthur's erection.

Arthur groaned and reclaimed his hand with reluctance, but he needed two to get his fingers slick and add lube to the idle stroking Eames was doing as well. There was a little shifting, awkward and clumsy with gin but not so much that they lost the thread of desire, and then Arthur was sinking a finger into Eames' body. "Want two?" he asked, finding Eames already relaxing.

"Yeah, the gin helps," Eames answered, still teasing at Arthur's cock with light, slick strokes.

It did help, as did the simmering desire that had only grown after exploring each other the past few days. They fit well together, and their bodies were growing used to the promise of pleasure; Eames opened readily to Arthur's touches, and it wasn't long before he was murmuring assurance into a kiss and straddling Arthur's hips.

"That's it, love, just hold yourself up for me," said Eames, getting himself into position.

Arthur held his erection in place, groaning when Eames sank down onto him, hot and tight and slick from the lube. It felt amazing, pleasure rushing through his blood along with the gin, making his head spin in the best of ways. "Eames, fuck, Eames," said Arthur, unable to find words for how it felt. He started to thrust up, hands roaming Eames' hips and thighs.

"That's it, Arthur, yes, my Arthur," purred Eames, his voice sending a jolt of lust through Arthur, making him stutter in his thrusts before he got the rhythm back. Eames started rocking his own hips, hands on either side of Arthur's head for leverage. "You feel so good."

"Yes, good, so good," agreed Arthur, glad that Eames understood what he'd meant. 

Eames' face softened into something Arthur couldn't quite place, a warmth that he'd never expected to see directed at him and couldn't think about properly after five martinis, short poured or not. Arthur closed his eyes and pulled Eames down into a kiss, let himself drop into the physical to the exclusion of all else, though he filed Eames' expression away for later. He let himself worship at Eames' mouth, push pleasure into Eames' body with each thrust of his hips, feel the strength in Eames' shoulders and thighs and the contrasting softness of his kisses.

Arthur lost track of time, the dizziness of good sex and good alcohol blurring everything together in a long string of thrust and kiss and repeat. His orgasm snuck up on him, the slow building of heat inside boiling over into completion. He thrust up hard, breaking the kiss and crying out as his cock pulsed and waves of pleasure tingled all through him.

"Yes, fuck, fuck," Eames swore, sitting up to drive himself down onto that last bit of Arthur's cock, drawing Arthur's pleasure fully into himself. He took one of Arthur's hands in his and wrapped them both around his cock, stroking a bare half-dozen times before he, too, found his release, coming all over Arthur's sweat-slick chest.

Arthur watched him, dazed, and wondered if his face had that same look as Eames' had before, warm and soft and somewhat proprietary as well. "Yes," said Arthur softly, not sure what he was saying yes to but feeling like it needed to be said.

Eames looked down at him, panting and flushed and gorgeous, and grinned. "Yeah?"

Arthur nodded, grinning back. He'd understand in the morning, but for now he knew just the right answer. "Yeah."

* * *

Arthur woke alone in bed, cleaned up and naked and curled up in a cocoon of basically all the blankets. There was a glass of water beaded with condensation next to him, ice floating half-melted at the top, and a bottle of generic painkillers. He had a momentary pang of worry that Eames had gone, gotten what he wanted and left Arthur to sleep it off, but his eyes began to pick out all the signs that they were sharing the room, from Eames' coral shirt over the back of a chair to Eames' watch on the dresser. Arthur sat up with a smile and took a couple of the pills with the water, finding that he was barely feeling any effects this time around.

Eames came in holding a bed tray he'd found who knows where, looking very pleased to see Arthur moving. "Need the loo before we eat?" he asked cheerfully, hair sticking up every which way and wearing nothing but a pair of Elmo pajama pants and a smile.

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, probably wise," he said, taking another long drink of water before he got up. 

Arthur pressed a musty kiss to Eames' cheek on his way to the bathroom, that expression from last night rising up in his memory, the softness of it, the sense Arthur had gotten of long-held feelings only just now being allowed out. Arthur brushed his teeth and got himself cleaned up a little, then padded back out to find Eames had fixed the bedclothes and arranged it so they could sit side by side and share the meal, which appeared to be bacon and egg sandwiches, plus coffee and tea.

"Come on, petal, there's room," said Eames, patting the bed next to him.

"There is, you know," said Arthur, sliding back under the covers and cuddling up. "Room for you here."

Eames' face went soft again and he kissed Arthur very sweetly indeed. "Good thing I'm planning to stay, then," he said.

Arthur nodded. "Good plan," he said, stealing one more kiss before swiping a bit of bacon out of a sandwich.

Eames laughed. "I learned planning from the best." He picked up a sandwich and bit into it, looking very pleased with his own cooking prowess.

Arthur munched the bacon and hoped it showed on his face as he thought about this, morning after morning, year after year, and how much it was the future he'd never known he wanted but wasn't about to give up, now that it was on offer. "Once we've got this place back together, we should travel some, close up any safe houses we don't need and secure the ones we want to keep."

Eames covered his surprise well, turning it into delight instead. "And once that's done, maybe we'll adopt a puppy?"

Arthur grinned, finally seeing that Eames really did understand. "Yeah, once that's done, we'll get a dog. But you're not allowed to give it alcohol."

"Of course not," said Eames. "But I'm absolutely going to name it Gin."

**Author's Note:**

> All of the gins in here are real, and I've tried most of them. Even if you don't love gin, Antica vermouth is amazing, and Luxardo cherries are the best thing ever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [gin, in reverse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709166) by [kenopsia (indie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia)




End file.
